


The Endless Sky

by yel_halansu



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 1960s, 60s AU, Alternate Universe - 1960s, First Contact, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, UFO crash, UFOs, crop circles, oblivious dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yel_halansu/pseuds/yel_halansu
Summary: In the spring of 1969, the nation is gripped by space fever. James T. Kirk does not believe in aliens, at least until a mysterious spaceship crashes on the cornfield of his farm and he ends up developing an unlikely relationship with its sole occupant...
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek, James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 30
Kudos: 188





	1. Introduction

James T. Kirk did not believe in aliens.

It didn't matter how many sci-fi shows he watched during the long spring evenings, the latex prosthetics and cheap sets wobbling in the murky black and white screen of the television set, or how much he read on the papers about the Apollo mission preparations, or how much President Kennedy talked on the radio about putting a man on the moon that summer, stirring the imagination of countless members of the public. It didn't even matter how much his army colleagues had teased him about it before he had been discharged a year ago.

When he had reported the sight of an unidentified flying object to high command after that training mission, he hadn't meant to imply he believed the object to be an alien ship. Clearly, that would be impossible. He hadn't even gotten a chance to get a good look at it. It had just zoomed over his plane as he manouvered quickly out of its way, nothing more than a dark blur that the radar had somehow not picked up. It had been gone in an instant, leaving nothing but a ringing in his ears. He thought it could have been a new military plane he was unfamiliar with, or some kind of satellite, or perhaps even a Soviet device. He had not been prepared for the endless whistling noises his colleagues had made as he walked past, mimicking the levitating motion of a flying saucer with their hands; or for the tacky newspaper clippings they slipped every now and again into his locker, talking about supposed eyewitness accounts of landings and abductions, about the Lubbock lights and the supposed UFO crash in the Gulf of Maine a couple of years before, between ads for Easy Cheese and Hanna Barbera cartoons. Stocker had even had the gall to give him a book about the subject for his birthday. It was written by some poor soul called Amanda Grayson, who some twenty years ago had insisted she had been courted and impregnated by an alien, and who disappeared mysteriously shortly after her declarations. Jim found the whole thing distasteful and quite sad. He had punched Stocker in the face right there and then, and Admiral Pike had confined him to the barracks for three days after the disciplinary hearing. He still felt sort of proud anyway.

Only a few days after that incident, he had been called to the medical wing, where a doctor he was unfamiliar with had asked him questions, jotted his answers curtly in a spiral-bound notebook, and quickly signed a discharge on psychological grounds. Not even his friend McCoy had been able to do anything to stop it. Jim believed it was probably not just the UFO incident and the fight with Stocker, but rather that had just been the straw that broke the camel's back. He had always been one to disregard rules, and make up for the gaps in his knowledge and lack of experience with sheer cockiness, which bothered many of the high command officers. He was also one of the youngest officers to occupy his post, and a damn good pilot too, and that meant a lot of people wanted him gone, whether it was due to jealousy or because they considered him a threat.

At least McCoy had finally gotten the discharge he so desperately wanted a few months after him, and decided to move to Iowa with his family as well. He had insisted it wasn't out of pity, but Jim knew better. McCoy felt sorry for him now that Jim's brother George had left him as well, handing over the family farm to him after their mother's death while he set off to build his own life somewhere else, far away from the large, empty house full of memories. He was now all alone on the farm, sitting on the porch as the April breeze rippled gently through the vast cornfields, his military career dead and buried and not a soul to keep him company. Ever the optimist, he tried to shake the growing loneliness and take comfort in the beauty of the stars above, even as the storm clouds gathered ominously ahead. He didn't miss the army specifically, not really, but he did miss the sense of purpose it brought to his life. He just wished he had something else in his life other than all the quiet and routine farm work, some new and exciting challenge to overcome or a new adventure to thrive. Perhaps, even someone to share all these long days and this endless sky with him.

Thousands of miles above him, past the clouds and into the stratosphere, a sleek black spacecraft hurtled out of control across space. The triangular hull of the small, one-person shuttle cracked dangerously as small fragments of the metal bodywork were torn off and flew away. It had suffered significant damage, as had the portside engine, which sputtered and flared inconsistently for a few moments before exploding. Its pilot pressed the recording button on the control console in front of him to log what he considered to be the last entry.

 _Science Officer's log, supplemental: Instrument failure has caused temporary disturbances in the thalmerite integrator, which in turn initiated a failure of the interphasic warp fusion capabilities_ – He breathed in deeply and tried to keep his voice steady as the alarm systems blared relentlessly around him. – _The most logical probability is that the forward phase-conjugate graviton flow in the MK-12 cannon banks must have been altered as I passed through the dust cloud towards the edge of the Orion-Cygnus arm..._

As the oxygen flow waned in the internal tubes connected to his helmet, his voice quieted and his long, slender hands went limp against the console, and the spacecraft spun out of control, drawn by the atmosphere of the blue planet below.


	2. The Stranger

Jim did not see the light at first. It was only a brief flash in the distant horizon, not unlike lightning in the spring storm that was just now starting to break. He continued gazing out the porch of the old farmhouse, lost in thought, as the first drops of rain started falling on the fields and on the trees towards the edge of his property, where his beat-up red Chevrolet truck was parked by the unpaved road.

However, the spacecraft was approaching at great speed, and became visible to the naked eye after only a few moments. It was a distinct black shape against the greying sky, and Jim was instantly reminded of the strange object he had seen on that training mission last year. It kept getting closer and closer fast, and seemed to be coming directly towards the house.

Jim froze in place. Judging by its speed, there was no way he could reach his truck in time and put any considerable distance between him and this immediate threat. He could try to outrun the object on foot, but it was difficult to judge its exact trajectory, as it kept flipping unexpectedly, spinning wildly out of control. Now that it was closer, Jim noticed that it was on fire, and definitely very damaged, judging from its irregular and jagged shape. The craft continued approaching at an incredible speed, the engines roaring like monsters, and the stark light emanating from the hull blinded Jim for a moment.

He closed his eyes.

A deafening crash made his ears ring painfully as he opened his eyes again. The craft had just made contact with the ground, and he saw its light extinguish as the hull dragged painfully along the ground about 1,500 feet to the right of his house, destroying the corn stalks and mud pathways in its wake, and dragging to a halt just in front of the old abandoned barn.

Jim grabbed a gas lantern from the porch and ran out immediately, not even noticing the freezing, heavy rain that plastered his hair to his head and soaked his clothes completely.

On closer inspection, the craft appeared to be about twenty feet wide and fourty to fifty feet long, roughly triangular in shape, with a single large turbine jutting out of the starboard side. It was jet black, shiny, and covered in glowing lines of blue and gold light. A large fire raged on the port side, towards the tail, and the transparent material that formed the cockpit canopy was cracked. Jim clambered onto the turbine as best as he could to peer inside, and saw the shape of someone wearing a heavy helmet and a pressure suit made of glossy metal slumped over the cabin controls.

– Hey! Can you hear me? – Jim shouted as he knocked on the glass. There was no response and no movement.

Jim flexed his elbow and threw himself against the glass with all the strength he could muster. The glass-like material cracked further, but did not break. He did it again, and again, and finally the cockpit canopy shattered in a flurry of glistening shards. Jim climbed up a bit higher and managed to grab hold of the stranger, and tried to pull them up by grabbing onto their flight suit. However, their body would not dislodge completely from the seat. Their left leg seemed to be stuck onto something. Jim climbed up even higher and dangled his upper body into the cockpit to try and free them.

This was like no aircraft Jim had ever seen. The control panel was more complex than any plane he knew of, and the flickering screens, crisper and brighter than the most modern colour television sets, displayed all sorts of warning messages in some strange script he could not recognise, flooding the inside of the cockpit in bright cold light.

Jim pushed himself awkwardly further down until his head was level with the pilot's knee, and he could see what appeared to be a large metallic box that had been dislodged from whatever its position was during the accident. It seemed to have struck the stranger quite hard as a sticky green liquid flowed from a small tear in the suit, just on the outer side of their calf. The box was heavy, but Jim managed to shift it just enough that the stranger's foot was finally free. He pushed himself back up with difficulty, placing his hands on the damaged screens of the panel and feeling the shards scratching him, the cold rain pounding onto his back. He slung the stranger's arm over his own shoulder and managed to push them out of the cabin entirely.

Jim paused to lay the stranger down gently over the hull of the craft. He ran his fingers along the edges of the helmet until he found a small button that opened the mirror-like black visor. Jim had sort of wished to be met with the large, black eyes and grey skin of a Roswell-style alien, but what he found instead was much more pleasant. He was met by a very human face, a good-looking man of about his age, his skin pale and just the hint of a fringe of black hair visible towards the top of the visor. His eyebrows were sharp and pronounced, and his lower lip was inflamed and stained with the same green substance that covered his leg. Jim placed the back of his own hand against the stranger's nose carefully, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the warm breath against his skin. There might still be some hope if he was just unconscious.

The walk back to his house only took a few minutes, but it felt arduous. Jim was strong, but the stranger was taller and heavier than him, and the metal suit and helmet added considerable weight to his frame. The rain continued to pour with no sign of letting up as the mud squelched beneath his boots. When they finally reached the porch and clambered unelegantly up the steps, Jim kicked the front door open and decided to carry the stranger just across the corridor and place him on the couch in the living room. Jim stepped back for a second and clasped his hands behind his head as he looked at the man slumped across from him, the glistening metal suit and helmet completely out of place against the background of his humble rural home.

– Bones – Jim muttered to himself as soon as he managed to gather his thoughts, and ran towards the phone at the other end of the room.

– I don't know what to tell you, Jim. – Doctor McCoy grumbled as he took the stethoscope away from the stranger's chest. They had removed the helmet and metal flightsuit together like some kind of futuristic puzzle, leaving the stranger in a tight-fitting black undersuit that covered his entire body. They had cut the fabric covering his injured leg, and placed it in a homemade splint McCoy had created out of some strips of white cotton cloth and some long, straight sticks that Jim had kept around for kindling, and carried him upstairs to Jim's bedroom together.

– I can detect a pulse, but there's no heartbeat – Doctor McCoy continued as he put his stethoscope away in his first aid kit unceremoniously. – He is breathing, and the leg is definitely broken. I think the most you can do at this point is clean the wounds and let him rest. – He continued his examination, pressing his hands gently around the body, feeling for the organs inside. After a few moments the doctor paused, and stated simply:

– This may look like a man, but this is not a person. –

The words hung in the air for a moment as Jim stared at him. McCoy turned to him, trying to offer an explanation and coming up with nothing.

– I just don't know. Look at how sallow his skin is, and those ears! – they had both gasped when they had first noticed them after removing the stranger's helmet, the sharp peaks brushing against the neat black hair. – Jim, I think that green goo is his blood, look at how it's bruising over here – he pointed at the cut Jim had noticed before on the stranger's lip. – There are ribs where there shouldn't be any. And I don't know what the hell these are – the doctor continued as he pressed his hand against the stranger's lower back – but they're definitely not kidneys. I've never seen anything like this in almost 15 years of medical experience.

Jim paused for a moment, considering the uncouncious form laying in front of him. – He might not be like us – he said, measuring his words carefully – but you can't tell me that's not a person.

Leonard shrugged, and gestured to leave the room. They walked down the stairs whispering furtively. – What are you going to do, Jim? Nurse him back to health - and then what?

– We'll see – Jim replied pensievely. – Perhaps he can tell us where he's from, and how we can help him get back. What are your thoughts?

– Anything is possible after seeing that – McCoy stated almost angrily. – A medical anomaly, or a freak of nature. Some kind of experiment from the reds. You may have just proven hobgoblins are actually real – the doctor threw his hands up in defeat, but his face hardened when he looked back at his friend. – Jim, have you considered... have you considered he may have come from outer space?

– I have. I have. – Jim replied, his eyes narrowing. – That aircraft was like nothing I have ever seen either. I'd show you if it wasn't so dark already.

They descended rest of the stairs side by side somberly. Once they arrived at the ground floor, McCoy turned and looked meaningfully at his friend as he grabbed his coat and put it on. – Be careful, Jim. You don't know what his intentions are.

Jim smiled warmly. – I'm sure for now his intention is to get better. I'll call you again when he wakes up. –

– If he wakes up – McCoy added somberly. – Goodnight, Jim. – 

– Goodnight, Bones. Thank you for coming on such short notice - say hi to your wife and Joanna from me. – 

The doctor wrapped his coat more closely around him as he stepped outside.

– Ah, and Bones? – Jim called after him – Please don't tell anyone. Not yet at least. – 

– He's not exactly like the other men you've brought home before though, is he? Or like the women for that matter – Bones whispered as he leaned in meaningfully. – Don't worry. I won't tell. But you have to stop doing crazy things like this, kid. –

– Have a safe drive back – Jim grinned, evading the statement.

The doctor turned around to shoot one last look of concern at his friend before running towards his car in the rain and backing up in the muddy driveway, before driving away towards the town of Riverside.

Jim smiled as he locked the door behind him. He grabbed a small bowl of warm water from the kitchen and headed back upstairs.

He sat by the stranger's side on the bed and looked more closely at the suit he was wearing, until he located a zipper along the front. Jim pulled it down to exponse the stranger's chest, and the fabric seemed to relax with the motion, as if it had been vacuum-sealed around his body, allowing him more room to move it around. Jim shifted it and uncovered a shoulder that bore another one of those strange green bruises. He wet a clean towel in the warm water and ran it softly over every one of the specks of mud and ash, every one of the bruises and cuts on the stranger's exposed skin, around the break in his leg, over his shoulder and his hands, and paused for a moment before reaching for the one on this lower lip. Jim took in a deep breath and swallowed hard. He had helped a few of his army colleagues clean their wounds, and something about these moments always struck him as deeply intimate at the best of times. This situation made any coyness he may have felt in those moments seem insignificant. The stranger looked so vulnerable and yet unfathomable, so unreachable in his mindless sleep, and so cold it made Jim's heart ache. He felt he was at the edge of an event of epic proportions, that his life was about to be changed forever.

It didn't help that Jim found him handsome as well.

Jim slept soundly on the couch that night. So soundly, in fact, that he did not hear the faint stirring and rustling sounds, and the whispering in an unkown language in his room upstairs in the small hours of the morning.

_ Science Officer's log, stardate unknown: I have woken in unfamiliar surroundings. I appear to have been removed from the spacecraft and placed into some kind of facility. I have not yet been able to verify my location and currently have no access to any instruments other than the ones that were attached to the spacesuit. This was removed from my body also, and damaged in the process, but was left in the same chamber where I am currently held. An attempt was made to dress my wounds, which do not appear to be extensive, and from the limited medical technology utilised I believe this civilization to be rather primitive. I can identify no security measures that are a threat to my person at this time, however I will exercise extreme caution until I can determine the identity and intentions of my captors. End of log. _


	3. Tall, dark, handsome, and smarter than us

Jim entered his room the following morning to find the bed empty, and the stranger gone.

At least, that's what he thought until he heard the whirring sound of an electrical charge loading behind him, and a command in a language he could not recognise.

– _Pekha'uh._

Jim whipped around to find himself staring down the barrel of an oddly shaped gun at the stranger's cold, dark eyes.

– _Pekha'uh._ _El'rular abru'le. Vohris fi'mal-nef._ – he pointed the gun at the floor and then back at him, and Jim knew to kneel without making any sudden movements, his hands behind his head. There was a moment of tense silence before they both spoke at the same time.

– Please don't shoot. I'm a civilian, I'm not armed. – Jim tried to seem calm, but the words came out of his mouth a bit faster and louder than he had hoped. – Please don't shoot me. –

The stranger did not lower the gun, and continued talking over him, ignoring Jim's pleas. Every muscle in his body was tense.

– _Fa-wak tor du ra karthau. Shasutan'uh du eh var'uh shi t'nash-kebitra._ –

Jim looked up slowly at the towering stranger in front of him until he met his gaze again.

– Please don't shoot me – Jim repeated, blinking for a moment. – I don't understand a word you're saying. – The situation suddenly struck him as more awkward than dangerous, and a charming smile broke across his face.

The stranger lowered his gun slightly, and raised a single eyebrow, like a perfect question mark. Jim noticed the stranger's gaze dart across his own face methodically as he looked at his cheek, his ear, the corner of his eyebrow, and back into his eyes. It took Jim a second to register what he said next:

– Is this Terra? –

– Excuse me? – Jim whispered after the pause.

– Is this planet Terra? – the stranger asked again, his grip adjusting on the weapon. – Are you a human? – 

– Yes. Yes! – Jim's face lit up with relief and wonder – I am! I am a human. This is planet Earth. – 

The stranger's face remained impassive, but Jim could have sworn he saw him roll his eyes ever so slightly. He finally lowered the gun, and advanced towards Jim. He took a single step on his injured leg and buckled, gasping in pain.

– Here, let me help you! – Jim got up immediately and held the stranger's arm, guiding him towards the bed again. – It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. There. – he said finally as he helped him lie down. Jim took the gun carefully from the stranger's hand, and was met with no resistance. He placed it on the bedside table, between the rounded lamp and the mechanical alarm clock.

– Ok. – Jim ran his hands over his face, and sighed, trying to shake some tension. – How about I go get you something to eat and we start over again, shall we? – he grinned before hurrying out the door as stranger's gaze followed him.

Jim paused for a moment in the doorway, took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face before pushing the door open with his foot, half expecting to be attacked again. Instead, the stranger was sitting calmly on the bed, with his hands clasped on his lap.

– Good morning! How are you? I brought you some breakfast. – Jim spouted loudly and quickly as he set the tray he was carrying on the bed. The stranger picked up the peanut butter sandwich he had made him and inspected it carefully from every angle, then pulled open the bread to check the filling.

– My name is James Kirk. – Jim said with a grin as he gestured with his hand towards his chest. – What's yours? – 

– S'chn T'gai Spahk. – he answered, placing down the food for a moment. Jim's grin became tense. He wasn't sure he could pronounce that.

– Spock. It's great to meet you. – He grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, hoping that was close enough. Spock looked alarmed, and did not correct him.

– Where are we? – he asked after a few moments.

– My family's farm! We're a few miles from Riverside, Iowa. That's in the United States of America. – he added. He didn't even know what to say to explain this bizarre situation. – Your aircraft crashed outside the barn last night. – he added.

– Are there other members of this household? – 

– No. – Jim replied sadly. – I live alone.

Spock took a bite of his food, then set it down again before turning to him.

– James Kirk. I am in pain. – he stated, his face conveying no pain at all. – I must request your assistance. – 

Jim was dangling into the spacecraft once again, his eyes scanning the inside of the cockpit until he located the metal box he had pried Spock's leg from the previous night. He pulled out the piece of paper Spock had just drawn on for him from the pocket of his jeans, looking between them both. This definitely was the right box. He dropped the paper, rolled up the sleeves of his red plaid shirt, grabbed hold the box and grunted as he lifted it up and out of the cockpit. He strode to the house clutching it against his chest.

Once he was back in the bedroom, Spock unlocked and opened the box, which let out a mechanical whirr. A faint light illuminated the contents. Jim did not recognise many of the artifacts inside, but it seemed to be an emergency kit, not unlike the ones he had carried with him when he used to fly. Spock pulled out a syringe that glowed with a bright green liquid, removed the cap, and stabbed it into his injured calf in a swift motion that made Jim's skin crawl. He didn't even flinch. He placed the syringe back in the box, stared at his own leg for a few seconds, and started untying the bandages around the splint.

– What are you doing? Are you crazy? You can't take that off yet! – 

– It is no longer damaged. – 

– Wait! – Jim reached out and grabbed Spock's hands forcefully to stop him undoing the bandages any further. Spock's eyes were shooting wildly between Jim's face and their touching hands, but his face remained expressionless.

– I think you might still need actual medical assistance. I'm going to call a doctor. – he said with a smile that he hoped looked reassuring.

Spock arched his eyebrow again, unconvinced.

– This is unbelievable! – McCoy's face glowed in the faint light of the emergency kit open in front of him. The three of them had spent all the afternoon together after Spock had managed to convince Jim that he was fine and he had allowed him to step outside to check on the spacecraft. The rain had put out the fire the night before, and now it just sat there in the cornfield, glistening in the sun like a haunting black rock jutting awkwardly from the ground. They had tried their hardest not to inundate Spock with questions, as they wanted him to feel at ease, but they had established that he did, in fact, come from a planet in another part of the galaxy, and called himself a Vulcan. He had been researching another solar system entirely before his spacecraft had crashed by accident. They had showed him around the house and tried to engage him in more casual conversation. Jim had insisted they saved the best for last and showed McCoy the medical kit at the end of the evening, just because he wanted to savour the amazement in his friend's blue eyes.

– What is it made of, again? – McCoy asked, tapping on the syringe gently as the liquid inside sloshed around. – 

– The active ingredients are derivates of calcium and copper mainly, as well as anticoagulants and some excipients. – Spock replied.

– So he's ok now? – Jim asked.

– Yes, sure. – Bones said dismissively, turning back to the kit quickly. – With the stuff that's in here you could bring someone back from the dead. – 

– That statement is incorrect, doctor. – 

– It was a turn of phrase. – Bones spat after staring at him incredulously.

– I apologise. In my homeworld, one does not make statements that are not based on pure logic. – Spock replied with the smallest hint of pride. – We aim to purge all emotion from both our actions and our words. – 

– Wait a second. – Bones froze before starting to wave a finger in front of his face. – You mean to tell me that Jim rescued you from that wreck, saved your life, shared his bed and his food with you and dressed your wounds; and you don't even feel grateful? – 

Jim's head turned from one to the other as if he was watching a tennis match. He felt he had been doing that the entire afternoon. Spock paused for a moment and stared down at his own hands.

– His actions were compassionate – he said softly. – That is a mark of an advanced civilization. I was not expecting to find it here. – 

Jim's face softened, but McCoy just huffed in reply.

– Well, there you go, kid. – Bones shrugged. – Tall, dark, handsome, and smarter than us too, apparently. You must be delighted. I have to leave now. – He got up and advanced towards the door, and gestured at Kirk to stay seated when he made an attempt to follow. McCoy disappeared through the doorway, only to lean his head back in right away. – I think I liked him better when he was unconscious. And don't look me with those big doe eyes. – he hurried away without making it clear whether he was talking about Spock or Jim.

– So your plan is to return to your home planet? – Jim asked Spock as he helped him put away the medical equipment. He supposed he should be reacting to this entire situation in a different way, but this just felt natural. Spock may be an alien, and he may have different ideas and technology at his disposal, and come across as a bit strange sometimes, but ultimately, he was just a person. He could talk to him, and it was obvious he came from a place where people had daily lives, just like humans. Families, homes, careers, and aspirations. Jim found himself surprised at how much he could relate to someone who was so far removed from anything he'd ever know. Spock was compelling in a way that went beyond their differences.

– Yes. – Spock replied. – I do not think if it will be possible to repair the starship by myself. After observing the damage before, it seems extensive, and Terran technology is quite simply not sufficiently advanced to fabricate the components necessary while I am here. I might, however, be able to repair one of the communication devices and send a distress signal. – 

– That sounds like a good option. – Jim replied. – You know you can stay here with me as long as you want. I agree with Bones, you know. – McCoy had yelled at them for about twenty minutes about how everyone involved was going to get abducted, interrogated, and dissected in some God-forsaken government lab if they didn't keep a low profile. They had agreed to cover the wreck of the spacecraft with a canvas tarp just to shut him up.– It will be safer if you stay hidden. – Jim added.

– It is regrettable that I burden you so. – 

– You're not a burden at all! – Jim grinned as he gathered up some clothes to lend to Spock from the powder blue chest of drawers. – I'm glad to have you around to be honest. It gets lonely in here sometimes. – he paused for a second before gesturing to Spock. – Would you like to shower and get ready for bed? It's getting late, I bet it's gonna take a while to get that communicator running for you, so we can make a start on it tomorrow– he offered the clothes to his new companion with a smile.

Jim lost all powers of speech for a few moments when he saw Spock standing in the doorway later that evening, his own white cotton tshirt draped over his tall, slender frame, long enough to cover the pajama shorts he was wearing underneath; his raven hair glistening in the red light of dusk that filled the bedroom as little specks of dust floated in the air between them. He thought he had regained his wits for a second, and then the alien got into his bed without hesitation or permission.

– I'll go sleep on the couch. – Jim ventured, still trying to process what had just happened. – You must still be sore from all those bruises from the crash, so you should sleep on the bed. – 

– Illogical. This bed is large enough for the both of us. You will be uncomfortable on any other surface, as they were not designed specifically for rest. – Spock stated as he lied down and turned around, facing away from where Jim was standing. – You should stay. – he added simply.

Jim hesitated for a moment, but he supposed Spock just did not know what the implications of sharing a bed with someone are across the whole of planet Earth. He took off his shirt and got into bed as well, with his back to Spock's, and drew the covers up around them both. As the tiredness started catching up with him, and he started to feel at ease and comfortable with the unfamiliar, warm shape of his companion, Spock started whispering in Vulcan into a small device he carried with him. Jim fell asleep to the comforting sound of his voice.

_Science Officer's log, stardate 01485.3: I have now confirmed the damage to the spacecraft to be extensive. I applied the corresponding medications to all my injuries today and my body is healing quickly. My plan is to repair the communication devices and send a distress signal to the nearest Vulcan starbase. I have also confirmed the facility where I am staying to be a rural home in the northern hemisphere of Terra, and its owner, James Kirk, is cooperative and welcoming. He is accustomed to the vast amount of natural resources that surround him, such as the fertile grain crops and abundant amounts of water in the atmosphere, both of which are reminiscent of the coloration of his hair and eyes, respectively. He is also prone to obscene but fascinating displays of emotion. Much like the planet Terra itself, its inhabitants appear mild, pleasant, and beautiful. I have every reason to believe I will be safe here. End of log._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the Vulcan text:
> 
> Pekha'uh.= Stop.
> 
> Pekha'uh. El'rular abru'le. Vohris fi'mal-nef. = Stop. Hands up. Kneel down slowly.
> 
> Fa-wak tor du ra karthau. Shasutan'uh du eh var'uh shi t'nash-kebitra.= You will do as commanded. Identify yourself and tell (me) the location of this facility.


	4. Love Can Make You Happy

They easily fell into a routine during the following days. Spock would sit inside, working on the communication console he had extracted from the spacecraft's control panel, trying to fabricate substitutes for the damaged components from the materials he could salvage from the wreck and any useful Terran household object he could find. Jim would start working in the fields early in the morning, and be finished by the early afternoon, or at least he would find an excuse to be finished so he could spend time around Spock.

Jim noticed that Spock had started out with a resolve of steel, his gaze fixed on the small chips and screws as he worked diligently well into the night; but in a couple of days he had started to take more frequent breaks. He would ask Jim if he was able to help around the farm, riding with him on the tractor as they spread the fertilizer on the fields, or gathering the chicken eggs from the small coop behind the old barn. Spock would become enthralled by even the smallest things that Jim had never thought about before, like the bugs that were starting to crawl on the ground after the long winter, or the growth of a particular stalk of corn he decided to monitor, and it made Jim look at his own world with fresh eyes. He would stand right behind him as Jim cooked their meals and make notes on his electronic pad, proclaiming it was an crucial part of ethnographic research.

He explained to Jim that as a scientist, even though he hadn't set off to research Earth originally, he might as well collect some new data if he was going to be stranded here for some time regardless. Jim considered whether Spock was trying to procrastinate working on the communicator at all, but he quickly dismissed the idea. It was probably just his scientific curiosity getting the best of him, he thought.

One day, he heard faint twinkling sounds as he stepped into the house for the evening. He followed them, intrigued, as the sounds grew louder and more clear, and Jim noticed there was definitely a rhythm to them. They sounded similar to the strumming of a harp. He finally reached the living room, where Spock was sitting on the floor with a vast array of electronic pieces arranged neatly in front of him. The sounds were coming from the pad that lay on the couch nearby.

– Is that music? – Jim asked.

– Affirmative. It has been scientifically proven that listening to music can have beneficial effects on concentration and problem-solving abilities. – 

Jim stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of Spock as he methodically shifted some of the artifacts around, following a design only he could understand, occassionally picking one up and trying to fit it into the open communication panel, attaching it carefully with a small screwdriver he had taken from Jim weeks ago at this point, or discarding it to the side. He seemed so intelligent, so curious and gentle and beautiful. Before Jim knew it, he had been swaying slightly from side to side to the rhythm of the music for a while, lost in though.

– I have an idea – Jim piped up suddenly. – Come with me – he said, offering his hand to Spock, who took it hesitantly. Jim helped him up and guided him down the hallway. Only then did he let go of him, once they had reached the radio that stood on a beat-up rattan table by the kitchen door. Jim adjusted the knobs on the black box, which suddenly struck Jim as so primitive and bulky compared so Spock's flat, glass-clear pad. The alien stood there, staring at him with curiosity as he fiddled with the machine, until the reached one of the few music channels that he could pick up this far into the countryside. The music filled the room, and Jim started swaying his body to the slow beats right away.

_Wake up in the morning with the sunshine in your eyes_

_And the smell of flowers blooming fills the air._

_Your mind is filled with the thoughts of a certain someone that you love..._

– It's dancing! Can you dance? – Jim exclaimed over the music, and reached for before giving him time to answer. – Here, let me show you! – 

Jim grabbed Spock's slender hand into his own rough, calloused one and pulled him closer to grab his waist. Spock was frozen like a dead weight.

– Put your other hand on my shoulder, there you go – Jim said gently. – Just follow my moves for now – he said as he swayed slightly, shifting from foot to foot with the rhythm of the song.

_Love can make you happy if you find someone who cares_

_To give a lifetime to you and who has a love to share._

This is so fun, Jim thought. Spock was getting used to the motions and becoming more relaxed. He was so tall standing close to Jim like that, and he set his head on Spock's shoulder as they continued dancing together.

_If you think you've found someone you'll love forevermore,_

_Then it's worth the price you'll have to pay._

As the song was coming to an end, Jim looked up into Spock's face, merely inches away from his own, and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he swore Spock's cheeks somehow looked green.

_Love can make you happy._

– The song I was listening to yesterday, – Spock blurted out after sneaking up behind Jim the next day while he was fixing the screws on the fence by the road, giving him the scare of his life – the song that was playing when you walked into the room...

– Yes – Jim said, clutching his own chest as if he was trying to push his heart back into its normal rhythm – what about it?

– In Vulcan, it is titled “The Engulfment” – Spock said meaningfully, but Jim just blinked at him, a bit confused.

– Nice! – he smiled finally. – I think the song we danced to was by a band called Mercy, they're really popular lately.

Spock stood there for a moment, then lowered his gaze and turned from him slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. Jim followed the direction of his eyes and found a small patch of wild daisies that were growing just a bit further from the fence.

– Oh. You've never seen these before, have you? – Jim dropped the tools and beckoned Spock towards the flowers.

– Aesthetically, they are very pleasing – Spock stated.

– Really, they are a weed. They'll take over the whole cornfield if you're not careful – Jim pouted. He hated having to rake them every year. – But I guess they do look cute.

Suddenly, Jim had an idea. He picked a few of a the flowers as Spock watched him closely and started weaving them together, making small incisions on the stems with his nails and pushing another stem through them. He continued working until he had created a long daisy chain, which he then closed by linking the ends together and placed softly on Spock's hair as a flower crown.

– There – he said with a shining smile.

– What is the significance of this? – 

Jim shrugged.

– It doesn't really mean anything. Just that the flowers are pretty and they look nice on you. – Jim smiled again as he conjured up enough bravado to hold Spock's gaze. He then remembered another piece of daisy lore he could show him.

– People also believe that you can use these flowers to guess if someone you're in love with likes you back. Look, you pick up the flower and pull the petals off, one by one, as you count: he loves me, he loves me not – Jim demonstrated the action. He continued picking the petals off until he reached the last one. “He loves me”. He laughed charmingly – I guess I'm just lucky like that – he got up and re-adjusted the flower crown on Spock's hair slightly before strutting back towards the house. He swore he could feel the alien's gaze fixed on him as he walked away.

Spock picked up another daisy and tore the petals off one by one, quickly and efficiently. He stared at the last petal for a few seconds before picking up his recording device from the pocket of the jeans Jim had lent him.

_Science Officer's log, stardate 01485.26: James Kirk has kindly instructed me in yet another Terran custom, this time it is some form of traditional fortune-telling to divine one's beloved's emotions. It is evident a Terran would consult it to seek solace and confirmation, given that the lack the ability to form a mind-link in the Vulcan fashion. It seems highly unscientific, however in our respective performances of the ritual, the results appear to have been accurate. End of log._

That night, Jim walked out to the porch after washing the dishes from their dinner to find Spock sitting on the edge, staring at the night sky, the pad placed on his lap.

– The configuration of the stars when viewed from Earth is unfamiliar to me – he said defensively before Jim could open his mouth. He sat down beside him and stared at the vastness of the sky with him.

– Spock, – Jim ventured after a few moments – where is Vulcan?

– Approximately in that direction – he said with some hesitation, pointing to the Southeast with his arm. – It is roughly 16.26 light-years away, therefore it is not visible to the naked eye.

Spock turned suddenly to his pad, as if he had remembered something. He pulled up a star chart on the screen, and Jim had stargazed enough to know his way around the constellations that appeared on the screen. Spock swiped his fingers across the screen to zoom into the image, and new stars appeared in what had been the empty blackness just a second before. He swiped again, and again, and again, until all the stars on the map were unfamiliar to Jim. Spock then pointed at one of the non-descript white dots and declared:

– This is Vulcan. – 

Jim's idea of its location was not any clearer than it had been before, but he appreciated the effort. He stared up into the sky again, towards the area Spock had pointed to, and tried to imagine a planet far away, full of people just as intriguing and wonderful as his new companion.

– What is Vulcan like, Spock? Does it look like Earth? – 

Spock paused for a moment.

– I can show you, if you would like. – 

Jim had expected Spock to retrieve some pictures of his home world on the pad. Instead, Spock turned to him and placed his hand softly on Jim's temple.

– We Vulcans have the capability of linking mentally with others – Spock explained matter-of-factly.

– You mean to tell me you have mind powers? – Jim tried his hardest to not yell, but he had definitely not said that in his indoor voice. Spock frowned ever so slightly.

– Just do not get frightened. – 

Jim was about to protest that he was never frightened, but suddenly crystal-clear images of an unfamiliar place started emerging in his mind. He saw the endless deserts of red sand, the yellowish sky dominated by the gigantic shape of its twin planet T'Khut, the towering mountains near ShiKahr, the rolling plains of Gol and the blinding light of the Eridani solar flares. He could almost feel the stifling heat, the thin air that made it hard to breathe, and the feeling of a mild sandstorm prickling his skin. He ground beneath him was full of mudcracks and he could hear the distant cries of a teresh-kah far away.

But Jim also saw people, Vulcans just like Spock who conversed over food by firepits, and on the halls of the Science Academy. He saw families huddled together as parents helped their children with math equations and taught them to read from calligraphy scrolls, reckless young men driving their spacecrafts faster than they should, teenagers playing with a pet sehlat in the town square, couples falling asleep as they sat comfortably side by side in their foreign-looking homes.

When Spock removed his hand and he was pulled back to reality, he felt as if he knew Vulcan, not just as if he had only seen it, but as if he had actually been there in the same way Spock had. He struggled to catch his breath for a second as the cold, damp breeze of the night grounded him again on the porch of his own house, opening out to the dark fields. His eyes were wild as he tried to process what had just happened.

Spock looked at him for a moment, and seemed to decide to give him some space for a minute. He stood up quietly and started back towards the house.

– Spock? – Jim called after him.

– Yes? – he asked as he looked back at him from the doorway.

– It is beautiful.

Spock considered him for a moment, and Jim could have sworn he saw the glint of a smile dancing in his eyes.

– Indeed. – he said quietly before retiring into the house.

Spock was quieter than normal for the next couple of days after he had mind-linked with Jim. He shut himself in the house for hours by himself, and whenever Jim did see him, he thought he looked more stern than usual. Finally, one late afternoon he walked up to Jim as he was carrying some bales of hay into the barn, and stood there with his hands clasped behind his back until Jim stopped what he was doing and came closer to him.

– The repairs on the communicator have been completed. I have just tested it and my message has been received by the Vulcan starbase near Pernaia Prime, and relayed to the Fleet's headquarters in Vulcan. I have been informed a spacecraft will be sent shortly to collect me from this precise location. It will arrive tomorrow night. – 

Jim's heart sank to his stomach. He knew what Spock's plan had been all along, but to suddenly hear it so plainly, to know that he sent the message without even telling him first, and to realize he had so little time left with him felt like a punch to the gut.

– Why, Spock, that is so soon. – was all he managed to say. He felt like he wanted to cry, and he hated himself for being so selfish. Of course he wanted Spock to leave, if staying here meant sacrificing the life he had worked so hard to build until they met. Surely Spock missed his family, his home world, and his job flying through space to research strange new worlds. Who wouldn't? He couldn't ask him to stay with him in this backwater in rural Iowa, in a planet that surely seemed barbaric to him, no matter how much he wanted to. He forced himself to smile.

– But there's so much you haven't seen of Earth yet! – he swallowed hard, trying to come up with some ideas to make the most of the short time they had left together. – You haven't even been outside the farm yet or anything! How about you and I go to Iowa city tomorrow? It's not much, but it's close, and if we set off early we can be back on time for when the spacecraft comes for you. – 

Spock raised an eyebrow.

– Surely Doctor McCoy would consider this a violation of our promise to keep me hidden. – he stated.

– What McCoy doesn't know won't hurt him – Jim winked. – We'll cover your ears so nobody can tell you're Vulcan. Also, if you're leaving right after, it won't matter anyway, right? Nobody will be able to find you. – 

Spock considered the proposition for a moment.

– That... seems agreeable – he said finally.

– Great! And... oh, man, there's so much you haven't had time to try yet! I wish... – Jim started, and he stopped himself before he could say what he was really thinking.

Spock shifted.

– Maybe – he ventured – you could select one thing I have not yet experienced in Terra and show me today – he turned to Jim, his dark eyes unreadable. – What is the most pleasurable experience we can share here, James Kirk?–

Jim grinned like a schoolboy. He couldn't possibly tell Spock what his first choice would be. Or the second. Or the third, probably. Instead, he just blurted out the next random thing that crossed his mind.

– Chocolate! – 

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Jim thought as he pulled the cake from the fridge after having left it there to cool. It had been a long process to bake it together, but the result was worth it. It was a stodgy sponge made from Betty Crocker cake mix and packed with cocoa powder, and Jim had placed chocolate chips in the batter for extra richness. They had even made the thick icing that covered it. It was a traditional Kirk family recipe he had learnt from his mom, and he was very proud of it. He cut a huge slice and placed it on a plate on the table in front of Spock.

– Dig in – Jim said as he cut a second slice for himself.

– This is very good – Spock muttered pensievely after eating the first spoonful.

– It's awesome, isn't it? – Jim chimed as he sat down opposite Spock to eat – I'm sorry I'm not such a great cook. There's loads of interesting dishes to eat on Earth. I wish we had more time so I could– 

– No. This is really good – Spock repeated intently as he ate more. After a few moments, he added: – This is the best thing I have ever tasted. – 

Jim was a bit taken aback by that statement. Spock was not one to be prone to exaggeration.

– Are... are you ok? – Jim questioned as his looked at Spock more closely.

– Yes, I am – he replied as he straightened back up in his chair and continued to eat.

Jim placed the spoon down. He hadn't even thought of the possibility that some Earth food might be poisonous to Vulcans until now.

– Maybe you should stop. – 

But Spock just continued eating faster and faster. Jim thought he might make himself sick if he continued at this pace.

– Spock, – Jim advanced towards him and held his arm gently– please stop for a second.

– Do not tell me what to do, James Kirk! – Spock swatted at him and stood up suddenly. Jim backed away, but he tripped over himself and fell down. He laid there for a moment, sprawled unelegantly on the tile kitchen floor, propped up on his elbows, while Spock blinked heavily and rubbed his face.

– _Khraduhsu_. I am so sorry – he got up and advanced towards Jim, and he noticed that Spock was swaying dangerously from side to side as he walked.

Was he... drunk?

Spock offered his hand to Jim to help him stand up. Jim took it and Spock pulled up so hard he ended up pressed flush against him. He took a step back tentatively, but Spock did not let him go. The grip on his hand tightened, and he could feel Spock's face pressed against his hair. He allowed himself to sink back into the hug, and chuckled at the silliness of his companion until the words Spock uttered next cut the air.

– I love you, James Kirk. – 

The first sob came right after, and Jim's expression froze.

Spock was sobbing painfully, there was no doubt about that. Jim pulled away to see his face twisted in distress as tears started to roll thick across his cheeks, his mouth open in a silent howl, and it seemed so out of place and contrary to his character that it frightened him. Jim's face was not moving, but he was suddenly reminded him of how little time they had left together, and it was as if his heart started crying just the same. Jim pulled himself together and took a deep breath. He knew how to deal with a friend who'd had a few too many, and that was all he needed to do right now. Spock surely hadn't meant anything by it.

– C'mon. Let's get you to the couch – Jim said as he held Spock gently, trying to guide him out of the kitchen and across the hall.

He staggered forward with difficulty, leaning his entire weight on Jim's strong shoulders. Spock muttered something incoherent, and did not reply when Jim asked him to repeat it. They finally made it to the couch in the living room, and Spock flopped on it as the sobbing started again with renewed strength.

– I'll get you a glass of water – Jim disappeared into the kitchen, and by the time he came back with the drink, Spock had fallen asleep.

Jim left the glass beside him, covered him with a blanket, and looked at him for a second before starting up the stairs, alone. He tried to put the sight of Spock crying away from his mind and treasure the thought of spending one last day with his companion tomorrow as he fell asleep.

_Science Officer's log, supplemental: I have now informed James Kirk of the developments I recorded in my last entry. For some reason, he decided we should spend the evening consuming an intoxicating substance called “chocolate”. I seem to have fallen asleep briefly, and do not remember much of what happened prior. I believe I may have briefly become undisciplined and allowed myself to be inundated by emotion, embarrassing myself in the process. I can only hope the substance has the same effects on the Terran physionomy, and James Kirk has forgotten my indiscretion also. It would be regretful if this is one of he last memories he forms of me. Tomorrow will be the last day we spend together, and perhaps our paths shall never cross again in this lifetime. End of log._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the Vulcan text:
> 
> Khraduhsu. = (I am a) damn fool / stupid idiot. (Note: This is spoken in the invective mode of Vulcan, which Spock would never use under normal circumstances).


	5. Do you know what a kiss is?

The red Chevrolet truck revved up as it backed out of the dirt path and onto the tarmac of the main road, cutting through the morning mist. It started to clear up very soon afterwards, and a glorious clear sky opened up above.

Thankfully, even though chocolate had a similar effect to alcohol on Vulcans, there were no side effects, and no hangover. Spock seemed fine as he sat quietly beside Jim, examining the rolling fields that flew past them as they drove past Riverside and further north towards Iowa City. He was acting as if nothing had happened the night before, as if the clocks had somehow reversed a whole day and he had not yet contacted the Vulcan starbase at all, or told Jim that he loved him. Jim had decided to not press either issue, at least for now, and focus instead on having a fun day with Spock before he left.

– There was something I've been meaning to ask you – Jim said. – This one time, a while back before I met you, I saw something in the sky. I couldn't get a close look at it, but it looked a bit like your ship – Jim continued, his eyes fixed on the road. – Was it you? –

– Negative – Spock stated. – I have never been to Terra before. However, it is likely it was another Vulcan spacecraft. – 

Jim turned around to look at him, only to still himself and fix his eyes on the road once again.

– You mean there are other Vulcans on Earth? – 

– Currently there are no Vulcans stationed here – Spock confirmed – but some research missions have been conducted previously on Earth. We have aimed to stablish no contact with Terrans, specially not with their leadership – he paused for a second. – My father was assigned to one of these research missions, however it is highly improbable it was his craft that you saw. He left his research assignment when I was born. – Spock straightened up even more than usual.

Jim smiled gently at him. It was rare for Spock to be so open with him and to offer up that much information without prompting. The alien turned away from him after a few moments to stare out at the landscape rushing past them once again.

– You can open the window, if you want – Jim offered as he accelerated. – Just grab the handle and slide it across. – 

Spock obeyed, and recoiled a bit at the roaring noise that filled the truck. Tentatively, he stuck his head out the window and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The wind whipped his dark hair, which somehow was laying perfectly neat on his fringe by the time he sat back down.

– Terra is very beautiful – he ventured.

– Thank you – Jim smiled. – I hope we can have a good time today! – he added cheerfully.

Spock looked at him softly for a minute before turning his attention again to the landscape outside the window, studying the crop fields and the river a bit further beyond. “I always have a good time when I am with you, Spock”, Jim thought to himself, but didn't say anything.

They drove down Gilbert Street and past the Riverfront Crossings Park, and followed Kirkwood until they parked just outside the shiny new Sycamore Mall that had just opened on Lower Muscatine Avenue. Jim paused to pull a navy blue beanie from the pocket of his brown suede jacket.

– Here – he offered the beanie to Spock. – Put this on. – 

Spock obeyed, hiding his ears beneath the hat. Jim took a look at him, and thought he really could pass for a human that way. He was sure they weren't going to have any trouble.

He took Spock to the cinema first, and they watched some silly western that neither of them were paying much attention to. Spock was fascinated by the people around them, the strange clothes they wore, the fact that humans had spent so much time and money developping cinema even though their civilization was still so technologically deficient in so many other aspects. Jim was fascinated by Spock, and watched him intently as his dark eyes reflected the light of the screen in the darkened theatre. Jim felt thrilled every time he caught a glimmer of excitement in his companion's eyes. He wanted to commit every single of his features, expressions and movements to memory forever. Jim took a deep breath that turned into a yawn. He stretched his arms, and honestly did not notice that his arm had settled around Spock's back until he touched his shirt. Spock turned to look at him for a moment, then he turned back to the film. But he did not push Jim's arm away.

They strolled together for a while after the film had finished until they found a bookshop, the neat stacks beckoning them inside from the shop window. Once inside, Spock immediately started perusing the shelves with controlled enthusiasm. Jim tried to engage him in conversation and find out what he liked to read, and whether he knew much about Earth literature, but he found he had trouble keeping Spock's attention at all. Instead, he took the opportunity to sneak away for just a moment to buy a book. He finally settled on a beautiful hardback copy of  _A Tale of Two Cities_ . He paid for it and walked up to Spock, hiding the book behind his own back. He then took Spock's hand in his and placed the book on it.

– It's a present. I want you to have something to take with you. It's my favourite. – he explained as Spock looked at him quizzically. – I hope... I hope you think of me when you read it – he added with a sad smile.

– Thank you – Spock said as he held the book gently. – I shall. I wish it were possible for me to read everything in here – he added as he looked at the rows of shelves around them.

– You look a bit wistful – Jim said as he stroked the spine of the book right in front of him, some pulpy sci-fi title with a scantily clad woman hand-drawn on the cover. He had meant to express concern, but only realised it came across as teasing once the words had already left his mouth. Spock whipped around and looked at him sternly.

– I do not. Vulcans are not affected by their emotions. – 

“Like hell you're not,” Jim thought. He decided to let Spock win this argument and change the subject entirely. He looked around and tried to come up with something else to do. He really wanted him to have a bit more fun before they drove back to the farm.

– Would you like to grab something to eat? – 

They were sat side by side in the narrow booth of the diner, the neon lights buzzing over them, their cold light against the powder blue walls. A bunch of dishes and empty glasses lay strewn across the table as Jim laughed heartily at the story Spock was telling him. They had spent hours just talking to each other about everything and nothing, and they felt like they would never run out of topics for their entire lifetimes. However, the conversation trailed off to an stop when Spock finished his story and looked at Jim's face in wonder, his cheeks turning slightly green once again.

Jim's laughter trailed off in turn, and when he brought his hand down from rubbing his eye to the table, he grabbed Spock's hand there and squeezed it in his.

– James Kirk, – Spock suddenly looked particularly serious, but Jim thought he could see his expression soften when he turned to him, perhaps even a glint of mischiviousness in his eyes – I do not think you understand that holding hands is a sign of affection in Vulcan culture. –

– Well, so it is here – Jim shrugged.

– No – Spock stated. – I have observed the behaviour of the Terrans around us today. Perhaps you are correct that it is a display of affection, but it is simply not performed with the same degree of intimacy or reverence. Its significance is much deeper to us. – 

Jim stopped to think for a moment, considering what he had just been told. His heart was beating out of his chest. He wondered if he had just messed up, but it did seem as if Spock had been returning these gestures all along. He took a deep breath and decided to play along this time.

– You mean this is how Vulcans kiss? – he asked quietly as he leaned in closer to Spock. – Do you know what a kiss is? – 

Spock was still, his eyes shining and fixed on Jim.

– Is it an intimate Terran way of displaying affection between mates? – 

– Yes – Kirk leaned in a bit closer, and brushed some of Spock's fringe off his face. Spock did not recoil. In fact, Jim could have sworn he was leaning in ever so slightly as well. – Do you know how we kiss on Earth? – 

– I am unfamiliar with this concept – they were so close their noses were almost touching.

– Can I show you? – Jim asked, and Spock nodded softly.

Jim closed the distance completely and pressed his lips against Spock's. They were soft and warm and everything he had ever dreamed of. He could see that clearly now. He deepened the kiss and cupped Spock's cheek with his hand. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity, Jim's tongue brushing against Spock's lips and past them, biting on the alien's lower lip gently.

Jim pulled away eventually, but only enough to break the contact. Spock seemed breathless as Jim opened his eyes again.

– What do you think? – Jim's pout became a slight grin.

– How unhygenic – Spock muttered breathlessly before leaning in again to press his lips against Jim's once more.

– Bones – Jim said as he twirled the twisting cord of the payphone in his hand, leaning against the metal casing. He cast his eyes quickly towards the chevvie, parked on the other side of the road, Spock waiting for him dutifully inside. He watched him remove the beanie, revealing his pointy ears, and turn it around in his hands pensievely. The red light of dusk was blinding in the horizon.

– Dammit, Jim – a voice grumbled on the other side, distorted by the static. – You know, I have other things in my life apart from you and your pet hobgoblin. – 

– You won't have to worry about him any longer – Jim smiled sadly.

– What do you mean? – his voice was worried behind his rough tone.

– He's getting a ride back today. I thought you might want to be there – Jim bit his lip as he slumped his shoulders. – Bones, I don't want him to go. – 

– Have you asked him to stay? – McCoy asked.

– I can't, Bones. I can't. – Jim sighed. – I have to go now. I'll meet you back at the farm in half an hour – Jim hung up the phone with a clink before McCoy had a chance to ask where they were, and sauntered back to the truck with his hands in his pockets.

Neither of them said anything during the drive back, and the silence seemed to stretch time itself, making the journey seem much longer than it really was. The skies had begun to darken by the time they pulled into the dirt road on the edge of Jim's farm, and they could see a light approaching in the distance from the sky. McCoy emerged from the shadows in the path in front of them, walking up to their truck glumly.

– It seems the show is about to start – he gestured towards the light with a nod of his head. Spock got out of the truck silently, and Jim followed.

They were met with the spectacular sight of a large Vulcan spacecraft descending from the clear sky onto the cornfield, just in front of the house. It looked very different from the small, one-person shuttle Spock had crashed, and was about as large as Jim's entire house. The ship was silver in color, hexagonal, with large turbines positioned on four of its corners, their power causing the stalks of corn to whip around wildly in the wind. A blinding beam of light shone from the bottom of the craft, piercing the darkness like a spotlight on the landing area below.

Spock advanced tentatively as the spacecraft started to descend slowly, and Jim followed him without thinking, standing side by side while McCoy stayed behind by the Chevrolet. The ship finally made contact with the ground, flattening the crops around it in an unnatural shape. A section on its side was illuminated by a yellow strip of light, and a ramp started to unfold from it as the turbines ground to a halt. Spock's eyes were fixed on it even as he reached for Jim's hand beside him. Jim held it, and for a moment, it felt like they were made for one another.

A doorway opened over the ramp and Jim saw five figures standing in the light. One of them was an older male Vulcan, wearing dark robes and a stern expression on his face. A woman stood by his side, with a delicate veil adorning her head, and Jim could swear he recognised her from somewhere. Three younger male Vulcans in what appeared to be military uniforms stood at attention behind them, probably some kind of attendants or security guards.

– _Sochya eh dif_ – spoke the older Vulcan, lifting his hand in a salute.

– _Dif-tor heh smusma_ – Spock replied, returning the gesture.

They both lowered their hands in unison, and the older Vulcan opened his arms in a restrained, but welcoming gesture.

– _Spahk. Sa-fu t'nash-veh. Sailau. Fun-tor etek nash-gad na'o'T'Khasi. –_

– _Ri –_ Spock replied simply.

Neither Spock nor the older Vulcan moved a muscle, but Jim thought you could cut the tension with a knife. The guards were turning to each other in confusion and whispering inaudibly. The woman had the most visible reaction as her expression widened in surprise and turned into a huge grin, and she covered her mouth with her hands, looking between Spock and the other Vulcan.

– _Ri hal-tor._ – Spock replied. – _Dungi-hafau svi'Terra, k'ish-veh._ – he lifted his hand up, intertwined with Jim's. – _T'hy'la t'nash-veh_. – 

The older Vulcan seemed to relax slightly, and turned to the woman beside him as she smiled sweetly. The guards whispered to each other at an even more fervent pitch, until the older male shot them a glare that shut them up. Spock turned to Jim, who was still a bit confused, but whose hopes were rising by the second.

– I will stay with you. – 

Jim's face lit up brighter than any of the flares in the spacecraft before them. He jumped for joy as he lunged forward and kissed Spock on the cheek, before hugging him tighter than he had ever hugged anyone in his entire life, as if he feared he was still going to slip away from him somehow.

Every Vulcan present in the field flinched in unison, but Jim did not see it. Spock was returning the hug, and holding him so close it was a bit hard to breathe.

_Science Officer's log, stardate 01485.30: I have just been informed that my sudden decision to apply for a permanent research post on Terra has been accepted by the Vulcan Fleet. I will continue to report regularly on my findings regarding the environment of the planet and the fascinating people who inhabit it, and continue my investigations on the nearby planets of the Orion-Cygnus arm. It is only logical to shift one's base of operations as close as possible to the object of one's research. James Kirk supports my decision and has agreed to continue supporting me with my work. Incidentally, I believe he has also agreed to become my bondmate... End of log._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the Vulcan text:
> 
> Sochya eh dif . = Peace and long life.
> 
> Dif-tor heh smusma. = Live long and prosper.
> 
> Spahk. Sa-fu t'nash-veh. Sailau. Fun-tor etek nash-gad na'o'T'Khasi. = Spock. My son. Accompany (us). Today we return to (our honored planet) Vulcan.
> 
> Ri. = No
> 
> Ri hal-tor. = (I am) not going.
> 
> Dungi-hafau svi'Terra, k'ish-veh.= (I) will stay behind on Earth, with him.
> 
> T'hy'la t'nash-veh. = (He is) my soulmate.


	6. Epilogue

– Hurry up, Spock, you're going to miss it! – Jim called after his boyfriend. He was on the living room floor, far too close to the television set, sitting cross-legged on the ground like a child. It was already dark outside, and the electrical light from the black and white screen flooded the room as the astronaut on it addressed the masses.

Three months had passed since Spock had made the decision to say with Jim. The Vulcans had returned once more after that, with another one of their large spaceships. Their engineers had worked diligently, exchanging Spock's wrecked craft for a new one they had towed all the way from their home planet, a shiny two-seater shuttle with a bright insignia on the side. His family had also sent him some of his things, a few more pads and sohisticated communicators, more scientific instruments that Jim didn't understand, books and some robes, which Spock favoured over Jim's rough clothing. The Vulcan appeared by the doorway of the living room wearing one of them, the black silky material draped over his slender frame.

– It is illogical to display a deep emotional attachment to such a small technological advancement – he stated dryly, – specially since you know that the possibilities of space travel are much more elaborate than what Terra can accomplish at the present time. – 

– Just let me have this – Jim smiled charmingly before turning back to the television set. Spock sighed almost imperceptibly and joined his boyfriend sitting on the floor.

– _That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind_ – the distorted voice resonated from the television as the grainy camera shifted from a side view of the shuttle's ladder to a close-up of the lunar surface. Jim held his breath.

A knock on the door startled him. Spock turned to answer it, and found McCoy standing outside.

– Bones! You've just missed the first step on the Moon! – Jim shouted excitedly from across the corridor before either of them could say anything else.

– Well, I did see the landing this afternoon. They've been at this for hours – he grumbled. – This is way more exciting than the TV anyway – his expression shifted as he clapped his hands and smiled. – Are you both ready? – 

– Affirmative – Spock said. – Interplanetary research requires precise timekeeping – he added, looking at Jim as he raised an eyebrow.

– Yes – Jim sighed. – Let's go. – he added, sliding his arm around Spock's waist as they walked out of the house and down the steps of the front porch.

After a few minutes making the final adjustments, Spock beckoned at Jim from inside the cockpit of the craft. Jim turned and hugged Bones tightly.

– I'll stay until you're gone to make sure you take off safely – the doctor told him, patting his shoulder. – Specially after seeing Spock's crash landing... Aren't you scared, Jim? – 

Jim paused to consider the question for a few moments.

– Maybe a little – he conceded. – But I'm also very happy – he tightened the hug one last time. – We will be back in a couple of days, I'll give you a call – he pulled out a small Vulcan communicator from the pocket of his jeans with a mock expression of surprise, and then turned and ran towards the craft, and clambered into the passenger seat. He turned to look at McCoy, who was waving at them from a safe distance.

Jim smiled to himself. If only the Vulcans had come a few weeks earlier, he could have been the first man to step on the surface of another planet. Not the first human, though. Amanda Grayson had beaten them both to that. When he turned to Spock, he thought their similarities were really apparent, if you knew to look.

Spock pulled a lever in the control panel to lower and lock the cockpit canopy, then pressed a button on one of the tactile screens before him, and the turbines started whirring. They gathered up more and more speed as the craft started lifting into the air. Jim looked down and saw the farm, his house, his chevvie, and his entire world grow small and distant, and turned to Spock with an excited, glowing smile. The spacecraft continued gaining altitude as they took off into the night, flying together at last across the endless sky.


End file.
